This spring and summer I have been keenly interested in learning how to fly fish at a deeper level. I took an 8 week class, I’ve listened to hours and hours of podcasts, I’ve watched hundreds of video tutorials on the subject, and I have read multiple books. I have multiple friends who I meet with and talk about fishing and I hang out at a local fly shop and pick the brains of the experts behind the counter. Each of us sharing what we know and what we are continuing to learn.
Fly fishing is a humbling experience. It is an art form that seeks to simulate nature to entice fish to act upon their natural instincts. There are hundreds of fly patterns designed to mimic the variety of insects that are found depending upon the seasons and time of day. Matching the fly pattern is only part of it. Having the right fly tied on won’t mean anything if the presentation isn’t right. Casting is it’s own art that must continuously be adjusted to match the conditions. Fishing from the shore can eliminate the possibility of a back cast without tangling up with bushes and trees. Wind can thwart the distance of a cast, and current can cause unnatural floats in the water that will repel the fish.
There is always a gap between the knowledge and the practice. This past week I spent three wonderful days on the water attempting to practice what I have learned. I met my friend Ed for day on the Yakima River with an Orvis certified guide named Jerome. The unusually high heat meant we had to be on the water by 5am and off before noon so we would not harm the fish. It was really more than a guided fishing trip. It was an on the water applied 301 fishing class. Jerome taught us how to read the water and anticipate where fish would be feeding or laying up. We learned how to spot pools by the change of color in the water and to note the riffles and changes in current and where the food would float naturally towards the fish. We learned to look for seams, bends, and runs with each requiring a slightly different presentation technique.
We caught a lot of fish that day. However the best assessment of my learning came the following two days when Ed and I fished by ourselves. On the second day we left Ellensburg at 3:30 am to drive to Naches. It was so early that the hotel lobby didn’t have fresh coffee and the Starbucks next door was closed. These turned out to be gifts because I found that a 24 hour Circle K had the most divine coffee machine with a choice of four whole coffee beans and a touch screen. I filled a 16 ounce cup with freshly ground and brewed coffee that completely satisfied my early morning needs.
As we approached the Naches river we had to read the water without any prior knowledge or information. We ended up finding two different spots to spend our entire day. And we caught fish. Ed called it a derby day.
The morning started with dry flies, later we would add nymphs below the surface. Presenting flies that simulate different life stages of insects at the level in the water column where fish would naturally find them took a lot of effort to learn. With a good cast and the right rigging a fish would launch at the fly almost instantly. The key take away for me was that you know almost immediately if you are doing it right.
Some people find fishing to be a slow and boring process. For me it is completely engaging. It starts with reading water and then sitting a moment to see what insects are hatching or flipping over rocks to examine larva, nymphs, are shedded husks. I also watch for bird activity. A Heron, Osprey, Eagle, or Kingfisher are great guides for finding fish. I remember taking my son fishing one day on a boat that had an electronic fish finder. After a few hours of catching nothing and watching blips on a screen that supposedly meant there were lots of fish present I gave up and started noticing where an Osprey was circling. I moved my boat in that direction and we caught fish almost immediately.
On the third day another friend joined us from Spokane. Tim had ridden down on his motorcycle while his fiancée Gen was having her bachelorette party. It wasn’t a bachelor party for Tim but it was cameraderie and we treated him to dinner and a promise of getting him out on the water with us.
Our guide had told us about a creek outside of town up in the foothills. He said it would be challenging and technical fishing. For me, creek fishing is what I most want to do because it reminds me of magical times in my childhood watching my great uncle Sim catch trout from small streams I didn’t think could have any fish in them.
Having read the book The River Why about a character who finds himself and a deeper spirituality through the act of fly fishing, I find hooking a fish to be almost an act of faith. Jerome was right. The water was challenging as you couldn’t cast easily without catching your line on a branch or bush. At one point I found myself trying a bow and arrow casting technique that I had seen and read about but never tried. Knowledge provided a solution to a problem.
One challenge with small streams is gaining access to the water. Just climbing down the steep bank took time but also gave me an opportunity to spy small green colored flies. Rather than tying on the same purple Chernobyl from the day before I chose a small olive fly. The riffles of white water cascaded down rocks towards a deep pool underneath a bridge. I cast my small green fly into the darkness. Nothing happened. I stripped my line back in and made a second cast and a fish struck immediately. I cast again, and caught another one.
Up stream I could see Ed had caught a fish and further still Tim had too. It was a idyllic scene. After a couple of hours and a few fish each, we headed back towards town and attempted to catch fish from the banks of the Yakima that we had floated by boat two days before.
The current was super fast due to a release of water from a dam up stream. We didn’t catch anything because we couldn’t risk wading in the raging water. Dry flies and Dry/Dropper rigs weren’t working so I switched to a nymph indicator rig with a pink floating ball attached to my leader. After a bit a drift boat came by and it was Jerome with two clients on another guided float. As one does, I asked him what he was rigged up with and if they were biting. He told me that the dry fly fishing had stopped the hour before and that he had moved on to indicator fishing. I smiled, waved, and thanked him as he continued past me on down the river. I looked down at my pink indicator and knew I was really beginning to learn.
As I reflect on my experience and think of how much joy I have observing nature I was reminded of an essay by the naturalist John Burroughs titled The Art of Seeing. In it he observes that people who truly see nature do so from a point of view of love. He writes, “The eye sees what is has the means of seeing, and its means of seeing are in proportion to the love and desire behind it”
